Friend Paul Schrijnen sent me an extraordinary poem written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer while he was in Flossenburg Prison. Bonhoeffer wrote the poem shortly after he was sentenced to be hanged for his role in the conspiracy to assassinate Adolph Hitler.
The poem is entitled Who Am I?
Who am I?
They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I?
They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.
Who am I?
They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly
like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing
My throat, yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I?
This or the other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me like a beaten army
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I?
They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou Knowest me, O God, I am thine.
Bonhoeffer is generally regarded as one of the seminal Christian theologians of the 20th century. His writings are made all the more influential by how he lived his life. He.walked his talk. He met his end with his theological boots on.
Will I die with my boots on?
Bonhoeffer decided to face his death without an answer to the Who Am I question.
- He decided he needed no one’s approval.
- He walked into oblivion alone.
- He knew he and his Creator were one.
Will I make the same walk?
My friend Paul shares this reflection:
“It consoles me that even Bonhoeffer struggled with this question: who am I? And he struggles with the reality that life throws this question to us — at us, even. The question mocks me. This profound uncertainty disturbs us — disturbs me. There doesn’t seem to be a finishing line where we have figured it out — forever, finally.”
Yes, Paul, you’re right. The poem is both consoling and disturbing.
And yet, when I try to imagine myself in Bonhoeffer’s cell I quickly discover I have not his theological maturity. I’m still a babe, still very much attached to the question of WHO I AM (Well, maybe more the question of Who am I in relationship to you?)
I sometimes find myself like a baby in a crib, wildly shaking his rattle to announce to anyone who might hear: HERE I AM! HERE I AM!
- Maybe that’s just the point — when we’ve reached the end we are, as we were at the beginning, just helpless babes attached only to the One who brought us into life, to the One to whom we’re all destined to return.
“Whoever I am ~ Thou knowest me ~ O God ~ I am thine.”
- Maybe then we’ll understand that — in the end — it’s perfectly sufficient not to know Who I am — only Here I am.
- Maybe then Bonhoeffer’s last words before his death will finally make sense:
“This is the end for me ~ the beginning of life.”
Just a thought…
Pat and Paul
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